Guess God Thinks I'm Abel
by casploding
Summary: Previous title was "The Younger Brother." Set after "The Executioner's Song" in Season 10. Sam gets a call from Castiel, who says he has a lead on the Mark of Cain. Heavy spoilers up to Season 10, no pairings. Sam's POV because he hasn't gotten a lot of limelight this season.
1. The Bunker

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my intellectual property.**

The weather was rainy outside the doors of the Men of Letters' bunker. Sam briskly walked back inside, carrying groceries with him. He went down to the kitchen and put away the groceries, and went to check on Dean in his room.

He knocked on the door. Dean called, "Yeah?"

"I brought back some groceries from the store," Sam said.

"Thanks for the heads-up."

Sam turned away from the door and walked out to the living room.

Sam couldn't bear watching his brother these days. He felt as if he had been jettisoned from the comforts of being the little brother, and now, when the time had come to hold Dean up, he felt like he couldn't do much.

He searched and searched for an answer, for the secret that would help Dean overcome the Mark of Cain. Every day it seemed more and more hopeless, and his brother seemed closer to becoming a monster again.

He remembered that. When Dean had become a demon, he had been terrified. Terrified of what Dean might do, terrified of having to kill his own brother.

Sam was still terrified. He sat down at the table and opened up his laptop. He had six tabs open about the Mark of Cain, and another three about potential cases. He didn't want to look at any more research by now; he was sick of it. But it was his duty. He had to save his brother before he turned into a monster. A demon. Again.

His phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket. "Hey, Cas."

_"Hello, Sam. How are you?"_

"I'm good," Sam replied, scrolling down an article on the hidden meanings of the book of Genesis. "What do you need?"

_"How's Dean?"_

"He's back at the bunker. Same as he's been lately. Y'know, depressed, mopey, eating junk food, the whole nine yards."

_"I'm sorry to hear that. Listen, I think I may have a lead."_

"What? You do?" Sam closed his laptop and looked around to make sure Dean was still in his room. "Where are you?"

Castiel coughed. _"I'm in Colorado. How fast can you get here? And don't-"_

"Don't bring Dean," Sam finished. "I know. I'll tell him I've got to go to a funeral or something, one of my old college buddies maybe."

_"Okay. Goodbye, Sam."_

"Bye, Cas. I'll be there as quick as I can." Cas hung up, and Sam stood. He walked back to Dean's room and knocked on the door. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I've gotta go to Colorado. Will you be okay back here?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess. What is it?"

"It's, um, it's an old friend of mine, from Stanford. He got killed in a car accident and his funeral's tomorrow," Sam said.

Dean's answer came back through the door. "Okay. When will you get back?"

"Pretty soon, within the week. Anyway, I'm gonna take the Impala. You've got enough food to keep you fed for a week here."

"All right. Drive safe, Sammy."

Sam nodded even though his brother couldn't see him. The truth was, unless there was a case, Dean spent most of his time in his room with a tub of chocolate ice cream and his classic rock playlist. Sam did most of the cleaning and heavy lifting around the bunker these days.

Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala and headed outside, back into the rain. He got in and turned on the engine. Time to go meet up with Castiel and see what he had to say.


	2. The Daughter

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my intellectual property.**

Garner, Colorado

Sam pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the local Biggerson's and got out. He saw Castiel's gold "pimpmobile" parked a few spaces down. _Good. He's here._ He walked into the restaurant and looked around.

Castiel was sitting in the corner of the restaurant. He made eye contact with Sam and waved awkwardly.

Sam ordered and sat down across from Castiel, setting his laptop down in front of him. "Hey, Castiel."

"Hello, Sam." The angel had dark circles under his eyes, and his lips looked cracked. He took a sip of his soda and coughed.

"Hey, Castiel," Sam said. "You don't look so good."

"It's nothing, I'm fine," Cas replied, his voice hoarse and rough.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, Cas, I hate to break it to you, but you don't _look_ fine."

Castiel shook his head. "My situation doesn't matter right now. You came to talk about saving Dean."

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "You said you have a possible lead. Want to explain?"

Castiel nodded, chewing his burger. He swallowed and pointed to his left. "That man, right there."

Sam looked where Castiel pointed: a young black woman was sitting a few tables down. "Her?"

"Yes," Castiel replied.

The server came by. "I've got a chicken sandwich and onion rings?"

"Yeah, that's me," Sam said, accepting the platter. He turned to Castiel. "What's she got to do with the Mark of Cain?"

Castiel smiled. "She's Cain's daughter," he proclaimed triumphantly.

Sam frowned and looked back over at her. Yeah, he had seen it correctly: the woman over there was black. "Um, Castiel, in case you hadn't noticed," he muttered, "she looks a little bit dark-skinned to be Cain's daughter."

Castiel nodded. "You would think so, yes. But what you may not know is that the body Cain was inhabiting wasn't his first body."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean? It was a vessel?"

"Yes." Castiel stifled a burp. Sam ate an onion ring. The angel continued. "His first body was much darker-skinned. The Garden was located in Mesopotamia, after all. The first humans were brown-skinned, contrary to pop culture."

"Okay, so he had his daughter when he was in his first body?" Sam guessed.

"Yes. But after he killed himself over the Mark, he became a demon. He inhabited another man's body."

Sam didn't like that idea. If Dean turned into a demon again, he could potentially smoke out and hide in an anonymous vessel, making him much more difficult to track down. "So that's his daughter?"

"Yes." Castiel nodded. "And I believe she may hold the secret to destroying the Mark."

Sam looked back over at the young woman seated at the other table. "I hope you're right," he remarked. Another thought came to him. "How has she lived this long?"

"Well," Castiel said, "she's a descendant of Cain. Technically she's an abomination. And she's quite promiscuous, too. She was Grendel's mother."

"Wait, Grendel? As in, Beowulf Grendel? That one?" Sam shook his head. "I thought Beowulf killed Grendel's mother."

"That's just a folk tale. In reality, Beowulf killed Grendel, and then Grendel's mother came and took revenge by smiting him."

Sam looked back over at Cain's daughter. "So if she's so powerful, how do we get her to help us without killing us?"

Castiel shrugged. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."

Sam took a deep breath. "Well, that's comforting." He kept eating his burger.

**()()()**

They waited in the booth until Cain's daughter was done eating her fast food fix of the day, and then they followed her out to the parking lot. Sam watched her get into her black Jeep and back out of her parking space.

"We need to tail her," said Castiel.

"That'll be easier to do with two cars," said Sam, getting into the Impala. "You tail her and I'll tail you. After about ten minutes you turn down a side road and I'll keep following her." He buckled his seatbelt and started the Impala. He waited as Castiel quickly backed out and followed the black car, and then he too left the parking lot.

He tailed Castiel for a few minutes. They wound up going through Main Street, and as they got to the edge of the main area of the town, Castiel turned right toward a Wal-Mart. Sam kept following the black car out into more rural territory. Cain's daughter eventually pulled off the main road and went down a dirt path that led toward a private residence. Sam didn't follow, but instead pulled off behind some trees and texted Castiel the address.

**()()()**

8:15 p.m., just outside of Garner, Colorado

Castiel's vehicle pulled up behind the Impala. Sam got out of the car and popped the trunk, propping it open with a sawed-off shotgun. He looked at the arsenal inside and wondered what he should take. He chose the demon knife, his pistol, and a plain old machete.

Castiel walked up beside him. Sam glanced over. "Hey, you want a weapon?"

"No, thank you," Castiel replied. "I already have my angel blade, which is more than enough for most creatures in this universe."

They walked across the main road and started off down the dirt path. Sam couldn't help but hope that Cain's daughter would hold the answer to curing Dean of the Mark. "You know, I know he probably would have been mad that we were still looking for answers, but maybe we _should _have brought Dean with us. He does have the First Blade."

Castiel shook his head. "His rage would be too uncontrollable. I don't want to put him in another situation like that. Think about our meeting with Gadreel, or his fight with Cain, for that matter."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. You're right." He sighed. "I just really wish there was an easy way to fix this."

"Well, we've got a lead," Castiel said. "We'll pursue it and if it doesn't work out, we'll just keep looking."

Sam nodded.

They turned a corner in the road and saw an old farmhouse up ahead, a plume of black smoke wafting from the chimney. The black Jeep was parked out front. "All right," Sam said. "I'll go front. You go around the back just in case anything goes wrong, okay?"

Castiel nodded and departed, moving softly to the side. Sam grasped his gun within his brown jacket. He hoped he didn't have to fight, but no way was he taking any chances. He walked up to the Jeep. Empty. She had to be inside the house.

Sam pushed the gate open with a quiet creak and walked up to the large front porch. He looked for a doorbell, but didn't find one, so he knocked and waited. After several moments, he looked around and then leaned down to pick the lock.

The lock was simple, and Sam got in quickly and quietly. He shut the door behind him, taking care not to make too much noise, and drew his gun, sweeping the front room.

The house was furnished with simple but stylish furniture. Paintings of countryside scenes or night landscapes hung on the timber walls. The fireplace crackled in the corner. Sam advanced past the living room and into the kitchen.

"Hello, Winchester. Put the gun down."


	3. Ain't Got Nothin'

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my intellectual property.**

"All right, all right, I'm putting the gun down on the ground." Sam raised his hands slowly and crouched, dropping the pistol on the hardwood floor. "Everything's all right." He didn't even know if she had a weapon, but she was behind him and he didn't want to take any chances. "I'm going to turn around," he said, before he did so.

He turned around and saw the woman-Cain's daughter. She held a pistol in her hands. "Sit on the couch," she commanded, gesturing. Sam didn't question her orders. He sat down on the brown leather sofa. He hoped she didn't know Castiel was here. "How did you know my name?" he asked.

"It gets around," she said, sitting down in the leather chair across from him. "Now, I know you've probably got a machete in that jacket and most likely something enchanted. But remember-humans are far more easily damaged than me, and I'm the one holding the gun."

Sam nodded. "All right." _Maybe she'll see reason,_ he thought. _Does she know we killed her father though? She got pretty mad about Grendel._ "Look, we didn't come here to hurt you. I even knocked."

She curled her lip. "I know why you came here, Sam."

"You do?" He didn't want to reveal too much; she could be bluffing to find out what he was after. "Look, lady-"

"My name is Esther."

"-Esther," Sam corrected. "Look, I don't want to fight if I don't have to. I just need your help."

"You need to destroy the Mark given to my father by Lucifer."

"Yes," Sam replied.

"It is impossible," Esther told him. "My father searched for millenia. He never found a way."

"Yeah, well, an angel we talked to seemed to say otherwise. He said that 'The river ends at the source.'" Sam studied her face. "Do you know anything about that?"

Esther frowned. "No. I do not. And even if I did I would not help you. My father is the worst man I have ever known."

"Another deadbeat dad, huh?" Sam asked.

"You could say that." Esther adjusted her grip on her pistol.

Sam glanced to the back door, wondering when Castiel would get into the house. As much as he liked talking with Esther, he would rather do it without having a gun pointed at him.

"Looking for your angel friend?" Esther asked. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Angel friend?" he asked, trying to feign confusion.

Esther nodded. "Don't act all innocent. I know he came with you. The house is warded."

_Crap._ "Look, just put the gun down, Esther."

"Not a chance. You're trying to get me to give up the secret of the Mark. My father deserves his curse. I won't let him off so lightly."

Sam shook his head. "Not your father, Esther. My brother. Esther, your father is dead."

Esther's eyes widened. "Oh, no, what did you do?" Her voice became quieter and more earnest. She leaned forward, setting the gun down on the table. "What did you do?"

"My brother has the Mark," Sam explained. Esther shook her head.

"You found my father and you persuaded him to transfer the Mark?" Esther said. "And you found the Blade as well?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Basically. We had to kill the last Knight of Hell, Abbadon. And Cain wouldn't do it for us, so Dean-well, he screwed himself."

"Has he used the Blade yet, apart from killing my father?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam said. "He killed Abbadon a while back, as well as the last Man of Letters, a man named Magnus."

"He's going to turn into a demon," Esther said. "You know that, right? When he dies-"

"Yeah, we've kinda been there, done that," Sam said. "But I managed to turn him back into a human again. We just need your help getting rid of the Mark of Cain."

"I'm sorry," Esther said. "But as I said, I don't know anything."

"Please, you've got to know something," Sam said.

"Only this: that you should not trust your brother, under any circumstances. As his thirst for blood grows, he will become more irrational."

"I'm not giving up on my brother," Sam said. "You've got to know something. Anything. You can't just not have any inkling of what to do."

"I am very sorry, Winchester. I do know of a book which could possibly help you, but I don't know if it even exists any more, much less its location."

"Okay, what is it?" Sam asked.

"The Book of the Damned," Esther replied, her voice heavy.

"Like, the Necronomicon?" Sam asked. "Evil Dead?"

Esther smiled. "You've seen those movies? I love them."


	4. The Argument

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my intellectual property.**

"So," Castiel said, "we need to find the Book of the Damned." He stared across the booth, looking directly into Sam's eyes with his weird soul-piercing awkward stare. Sam shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

"Yeah," he answered. "Look, this is probably the most vague lead she could have possibly given me." He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe she doesn't have a clue about the Mark, but something tells me she's leaving something out."

"So her name is Esther?" Castiel coughed lightly. "It means 'hidden' in Hebrew."

"Yeah, thanks for the fun fact, Cas," Sam said. "Listen, I've got to get back to Dean or he'll know something is up. Could you maybe stay here and watch Esther? I know her house is warded, but just keep tabs on her, make sure she doesn't decide to take a vacation to some unnamed island. If she acts suspicious, we'll know something's up."

Castiel nodded. "Anything for you, Sam. Are you going to finish your burger?"

"I'm not really that hungry," Sam told him. _Not really in the mood either,_ he thought. He watched Castiel reach across the table and grab his nearly untouched hamburger. The angel still had bags under his eyes. He said he was fine, but Sam could tell he wasn't at full capacity. He was hungry and tired, and he travelled by car. _There seems to be a lot of denial going around these days._

"Well," Sam said, standing up, "I've got to go. I'll call you when I get back."

Castiel looked up with a mouthful of burger. "Mmmf," he said. Sam couldn't resist grinning.

"Stay safe, Cas."

**()()()**

**The Bunker**

Sam opened the door and walked down the stairs into the depths of the bunker. "Dean?" he called. "I'm back!" He heard no reply. He set down his bags on the table in the living room and walked over toward Dean's room. The door was shut. He knocked. "Dean, are you in there?"

"H'yeah," Dean replied, his voice strained as if he was running.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Porn? Really?"

"Sammy, just-ngh-go away, would ya? You're turnin' me off."

Sam left and went into the kitchen. He took out his phone and called Cas, like he had promised.

_"Hello, Sam."_

"Hey. Cas. Any news?"

_"Esther has stayed in her house this entire time,"_ the angel replied.

"No more fast food, huh?" Maybe she was acting suspicious after all.

_"I don't think it's early enough to draw any hasty conclusions, but it appears she might be worried about being kidnapped."_

"That would explain why she would stay in one fortified place," said Sam. "Can you tell how she's warding the place?"

_"As far as I can tell, she has some sort of artifact, perhaps in the basement,"_ Castiel told him.

"Huh." Sam grabbed an apple out of the fridge and walked out into the living room, sitting down at the table. "Not sigils?"

_"No, something much more powerful than that."_

"Okay. So it could ward off more than just angels?"

_"I believe so."_

"Okay. Well, keep watching and keep me posted. I have to go. Bye."

_"Goodbye, Sam."_

He put down the phone on the table and bit into his apple. The Mark was a huge problem, and if Esther didn't want to help, he'd just have to get it into her head that she didn't really have a choice here. Sam had wrestled Lucifer himself and won; he knew he could wipe Esther off the map if he really wanted to. _I just hope she'll change her mind,_ he thought. Then, pessimistically: _Who am I kidding, it's never that easy._

Sam grabbed his laptop and started trying to sift through the internet in his search for anything useful on the Book of the Damned. As he opened it up and typed in his password, he heard Dean walking in and turned around. "Hey."

Dean cleared his throat. "So how was the funeral?"

"What? Oh, right. Uh, pretty depressing." Sam shrugged. "How are you feeling?"

Dean said, "Fine," as usual. Sam was getting tired of this crap where Dean pretended he was just fine and expected him to roll with it. Since he had killed Cain not too long ago, he had started to put on a disguise, a mask of his former self, to try and fool Sam into thinking he was fine. But Sam had plenty of experience with that. He saw right through the pretense.

"Look, I know you're trying to be the brave older brother," Sam said.

"Sammy, stop." Dean's voice was harsh.

Sam clenched his jaw. "No, Dean. You're not okay. Stop pretending you are. We've got a problem and we're gonna find a way to fix it, just like every other time."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, I don't want this pep talk crap from you, all right? I'm done talking about the Mark. I'm sick of it. If we had a real lead, then maybe. But right now, we've got nothing."

Sam almost told him right then. About the trip to Colorado, about Cain's daughter. But he remembered Castiel's warnings and bit his tongue. "Whatever." He opened his laptop back up. "I'm gonna see if I can find us a case."

"Fine," came Dean's reply. "I'm going back to my room." Sam purposefully ignored him.


	5. Soldier On

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my intellectual property.**

Castiel's call came a few days later, while Sam was out buying socks. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered. "Hey, it's me." He grabbed a pack of Hanes and threw them in the cart. "What's up?"

_"Esther just left her house. I'm following her as we speak."_

"Any idea where she's headed?"

_"I'm following her east," _Cas answered. _"She's on I-25."_

Sam nodded. "Okay. Should I bring Dean? He's a good hunter."

Sam waited for an answer. He could feel Castiel's apprehension, evident in the stilted silence. _"It's your decision, Sam. Just remember, he's volatile. He almost killed Metatron when we were interrogating him."_

He started to move toward checkout. "I'd better bring him, Cas. I can't keep this a secret. I know how betrayed I was when he kept Gadreel a secret from me."

_"Fine. Just keep him away from Esther."_ Castiel's tone was firm. Sam realized that the angel had grown to distrust Dean ever since his stint as a demon. _Well, he's probably scared of Dean going darkside and killing him. It's not like Cas has a soul that can be brought back after he dies. One stab and it's over for him._

Sam said, "All right. We'll head that way. Call when she gets off the interstate."

_"I will."_ Cas hung up. Sam stuffed his phone in his jacket and left the cart in the aisle.

**()()()**

"Sammy, what have I told you?" Dean's voice was pure exhausted frustration. Sam opened his mouth but was cut off as Dean continued, leaning across the table: "There's nothing we can do about the Mark. If there was, Cain would have found it."

"Not necessarily," Sam replied, "his daughter had some sort of grudge against him, and maybe she-"

"_Maybe, _Sam," Dean said. "And maybe's not enough. While we're off chasing a maybe, we could be looking for a real case!"

Sam shook his head, standing up. "We have a real case, Dean. We need to find a way to help you, and this-this is the best lead we've got. Now come on, we have to go."

"No, Sam. It's just another false trail." Dean sat back in his chair. "You can go on without me. In the meantime, I'll be searching for our next monster to hunt."

_If you don't do anything, you're going to become the next monster we hunt,_ Sam wanted to say. He wanted to shake some sense into Dean's self-loathing head. _No! Always keep fighting! You're always there for me, and now I'm here for you._ But he didn't say any of the words in his head, because he knew they would fall on deaf ears.

"Fine," he said. "I'm going without you."

"You do that," his brother snarled, not looking up at his face. Sam turned and walked out to the Impala.

He stopped for gas and got onto the interstate, heading west. After an hour or two, he got a call from Cas. "Yeah?"

_"She left the highway."_

"Where?" Sam asked.

Castiel gave him the address. Sam passed a slow minivan in front of him. "All right, I've got it. I'm headed there now."

_"Sam, Esther is no longer warded. I could try to subdue her before you arrive."_ Sam was already shaking his head as Castiel suggested the idea. The angel obviously wasn't running at full power, and he was sure Esther had hidden powers she hadn't revealed yet.

"Look, Cas, just wait for me to get there. I mean, it couldn't hurt to have backup."

_"Is Dean with you?"_ Castiel asked, his voice now suspicious.

"Uh, no," Sam said. "He, uh, he decided to stay."

_"Well, that's probably for the best. With his condition, I don't know if it would have been wise to bring him."_

Sam didn't know what to say. "I don't know. I think you're underestimating him, Cas. Anyway, bye."

_"Goodbye, Sam."_ The phone clicked as the call ended. Sam pressed his foot down a little harder on the gas pedal. He knew he would do whatever it took to save Dean. He just hoped that there was a way to do it before he turned into a monster again.

**()()()**

Torv, Kansas

Sam pulled up the pothole-ridden two-lane road into the small town in west Kansas. This was where Castiel had said to go. He was here now, after dark, searching for the bar. Castiel had said to meet there. He found it in the center of the town, right beside the grocery store and across from a motel, some houses, and a gas station. Sam parked and went inside.

Castiel was sitting up at the bar, right underneath the speaker blaring gospel country music. Sam approached and took the seat next to him. "You look like you could use a drink," he said, chuckling. "The name's Sam."

Castiel turned his head and frowned. "I already know your name. And you know I do not need alcohol to subsist." Sam was bathed in Castiel's blank unblinking stare for a few seconds before the angel's eyes lit up, and he nodded. "Oh, I see. It was a joke, based on the trope in media of men buying women drinks before they take them home to, uh, fornicate."

"Yeah," Sam said, looking away and pursing his lips. "Never mind."

"You were joking about wanting to mate with me?" Castiel wondered out loud. Sam grimaced and looked back at him.

"That's not really what I meant."

"I understand. I do not care about your sexual orientation, if that's what you're ashamed of." Castiel's gaze drifted (unvoluntarily, Sam hoped) down to Sam's lap. His gaze remained there for more than a moment, and Sam shifted his legs uncomfortably.

"Ahem, hey, no. Cas, just..." Sam sighed. "It's more that I would be ashamed that you're so freaking naive. Can we please stop talking about this now?"

Castiel nodded, knitting his brows together and looking back up to Sam's eyes. "Yes. Absolutely." The angel kept nodding for at least four more seconds. Sam cleared his throat.

"So? Where's Esther?" he asked, after he ordered a beer.

Castiel tilted his head back. "She's staying at the motel across the road."

"Is that it?" Sam frowned. "Has she done anything else, made contact with anyone in this town?"

"Not so far as I am able to tell," Castiel replied. "She could have called someone from the motel phone, but no one has come to her." He fished through the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a key. "I was able to grab the master key off of the hotel manager, however. We have access to her room."

Sam didn't ask how Cas had stolen the key, as he figured it had been about as subtle as a brick to the face when he did, but he left that to his imagination. He didn't really want all the embarrassing details of the theft. "Okay," he said. "We should get a room a few doors down and wait to see what she does."

Castiel frowned. "I thought we could go in quickly and capture her for interrogation," he said.

Sam shook his head. "No. She's Cain's daughter. She has to have some tricks up her sleeve."

Castiel sighed. "Perhaps." He coughed into his sleeve for a few seconds. "I guess we'll just...wait, then," he finished hoarsely.

When Sam's beer arrived, he downed it quickly.


	6. Hung in a Bad Place

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my intellectual property.**

**Author's Note: I am writing under the assumption that the Winchesters don't know about Castiel's lack of Grace, but only suspect something is wrong. In canon, Cas never mentions it to them, as far as I can remember, so that's how this story's going to be.**

**Torv, Kansas**

Castiel snored while he slept. Sam had no idea he even had to sleep these days, much less that he was the most annoying sleeper ever. He rolled over onto his side and looked at the alarm clock by his bed. It was 4:34 a.m.

He got up and left the room quietly to get some fresh air. He gently shut the door behind him, although if he had slammed it he doubted it would have woken the sleeping angel within. _It's like he's dying._ Sam found the thought uncomfortable, but clearly Castiel was running out of juice. Sam ran over the facts in his head: _When the angels fell, he lost his Grace and became human for a while. Then, he got himself kidnapped by one of the factions, but when he escaped he was an angel again. Then he started getting weaker while he worked against Metatron, and when Dean went AWOL, he was worse than he is now even. But then... _Sam found it odd that the angel had been rejuvenated just in time to come to the rescue and cure Dean. Maybe he had to have something to keep him going, and he still didn't have his original Grace. _So where's he getting his power?_ he thought. _Is it like the demon blood was for me?_

Sam took a deep breath and shook that train of thought out of his head. _Maybe I'll just ask him,_ he decided. He walked down to the vending machine on the outside wall of the motel and bought himself a fruit drink. As the change clattered into the machine and the bottle dropped to the bottom with a thump, Sam noticed a sudden chill in the air. He left the drink in the machine and looked at his surroundings. He didn't see anyone, but of course that didn't offer him much solace. He realized that his jacket and the demon knife were still inside the room. He glanced over at it; it was about ten yards away. If he ran, he might be able to make it before anything bad happened.

He started walking back as briskly as he could without breaking into a sprint. The orange glow of the streetlamp flickered and faded out, leaving him underneath the darkness of the cloudy night. He forgot any notions of stealth and ran full-tilt back toward the room. He raced forward and tripped over something, slamming down hard onto the curb. His hands felt rough and buzzed with pain; his cheek felt wet and the left leg of his jeans had torn at the knee. He grunted and crawled forward; just as he tried to rise to his feet a snaking tendril wrapped around his ankle, pulling him back. A blunt spike of pain in his head was the last thing he felt before he lost consciousness.

**()()()**

Sam came to in a place that smelled like oil and iron. He was tied to a chair in the dark and his head felt like it was crammed full of trumpets. He tried to peer into the darkness, but his unadjusted eyes could only make out a small pinpoint of light to his left.

Sam pulled at the ropes binding him to the chair. His restraints were thick, but as he moved the chair wobbled underneath his significant weight and size. The chair felt like a brown metal fold-out chair, the cheap kind people used at big events when they ran out of nice ones. He raised his shoulders and pulled his hands up toward the top in an attempt to stand up. Unfortunately, his cramped position didn't do him any favors, and he only ended up almost falling to the ground.

Sam shivered in the darkness and tried to think of a way out as he let his eyes become used to the black abyss surrounding him. He could make out the dim shapes of what appeared to be shelves and crates on either side, but he wasn't sure. The light to his left was faint but it provided a reference for movement, if he managed to get free of the chair. After a few moments trying to loosen the restraints, Sam decided that he had to tip himself over. With a strong lunge, he propelled himself left onto his side. The chair slid and clattered, and he landed on his arm. His hands fished on the floor for a piece of metal to saw at the ropes with. He scooted across the floor, the chair scraping and making noise as he moved. He pushed up against a shelf, his fingers working the floor for anything he could use.

After what seemed like forever, he grasped a boxcutter in his left hand. Shifting his grip, he turned the blade toward the ropes and started to saw. The side of his face was covered in grease after being pressed against the dirty floor for so long. This was obviously some sort of abandoned warehouse or factory where he was being held.

The boxcutter frayed the ropes until he was able to rip his hands apart, snapping the restraints. Sam struggled to his feet and made his way blindly toward the tiny spot of light he had noticed earlier. He clutched the boxcutter in his hand; it was now his primary weapon in case he was discovered.

As he walked, he started to think more clearly, and the muddled pain in his head began to fade a little. _Was Esther setting us up? Is she working on her own, or with someone else? Where's Cas?_ Questions swirled through his head that he didn't have the answer to. He stumbled his way to the light and discovered that it was the glint of a reflected streetlight through a loose board covering a musty window. He pried the board farther with his fingers and ripped it away in one effort. A cascade of light flooded the warehouse. Sam stared out of the grimy window, taking in the view of the parking lot and the streetlamp illuminating it with an orange glow. He didn't see any street signs, to his dismay.

As Sam watched, he saw something moving into the light of of the road. A black car pulled into the parking lot; Sam ducked as the headlights flashed across the window. _That's bad. Really bad._ Sam ran over to his metal chair and brought it over to the window. He had to get out. He saw Esther's figure get out of the car, followed by someone else, a huge burly silhouette of a man. Sam watched them walk to the door. Esther put in the key; Sam pulled his arms back and bashed the chair into the window.

The glass shattered into hundreds of glimmering pieces on the pavement. Sam jumped through the window and ran. His boots pounded against the pavement. If he could make it across the street and into the trees, he could lose them.

He heard swift footsteps behind him. He passed the edge of the parking lot and ran across two lanes of gray asphalt. He cast a wild look behind him; the tall man was right behind him, looming at least seven feet, a broad-shouldered musclebound hulk.

Sam plunged into the brush, ignoring the scrapes and slaps of whipping branches around him. He barged through the trees, running farther and farther into the woodland. He crested a rise and tumbled down a slope, losing his footing and falling into the muddy waters of a creek. He coughed and pulled his head out of the water, disentangling a sopping dirty sleeve. He looked behind him and saw his pursuer at the bank, making his way down. _Shit._ Sam got up and struggled up the slope, weighted down by the weight of water and caked mud all over his clothes. He used protruding roots to pull himself up the slope.

An iron grip latched onto his ankle and ripped him back down. Another hand took hold of his shirt and pulled him up to face level. The giant man's face was scarred and mutilated; orange eyes glinted like flames in the darkness. Sam lashed out with his leg, kicking him. The man paid no heed; he raised his fist and punched Sam straight across the face. The blow hit him like a train. Stars sparked in his field of vision. Sam struggled to stay awake, but another blow to the head put him out with ease.

**()()()**

"That was stupid, Sam." He woke up in more pain than he had previously. He opened his eyes and looked around the warehouse, dizzily taking in the details. The streetlamp's orange light came in through the broken window, lighting up the place with a dim glow. Sam was bound to another chair, and Esther stood in front of him in the shadows, like a government interrogator from a spy movie. He didn't see any sign of the man from before.

Sam shifted and groaned. He thought he felt something in his pocket, but he couldn't recall what it was. He looked up at Esther. "What's going on?" He felt blood on his face, warm and sticky. His head buzzed, and he tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

"Why were you following me?" Esther asked.

_She knew we were following her,_ Sam thought. _Where's Cas?_

Esther stepped forward, her voice a low quiver of rage. "Answer me."

"Dean..." Sam said, trying to fight the groggy feeling of dizziness in his head. "...I have to save him." His head was a muddle, but two things were clear: he had to save Dean, and he had no idea where Castiel was.

"I was going to introduce you two more politely," Esther said, "but when you tried to escape, you obviously met my son." _What?_ Sam's head was spinning. The tall man from before came out of the shadows, his eyes still burning like fire even in the darkness. Esther's lips curled into a shrewd smile. "Sam, meet Grendel. Grendel, Sam." _Grendel._ Sam couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

"I thought he was dead," Sam retorted, almost tripping over his words. He spat saliva and blood to the floor. His soaked clothes felt cold pressed against his pruned skin. He felt like he hadn't taken a shower in weeks.

Esther shook her head. "No. I'm not; neither is he."

Sam nodded. "Whatever," he answered. "What do you want with me?" Despite the buzzing in his head, his muddled thoughts were returning to normality. He started piecing things together now. Castiel had been mistaken about Grendel. Esther had caught onto the fact that she was being watched, so she lured them here-into a trap. Hopefully she didn't know Castiel was here, too. That was probably his only advantage, and he didn't even know for sure that he had it.

"I want you to stop following me." Esther breathed a deep sigh. "Tell me where your angel friend is."

"If I tell you that, you'll kill me," Sam said. "I'm not going to give him up. You can do what you like to me. I'm ready for anything."

Esther nodded. "I thought you might say that." Grendel stepped forward. Sam braced himself.


	7. Shakermaker

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my intellectual property.**

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading this far! I hope you keep enjoying this story.**

Sam felt his head roll to the side. His mouth was full of blood, and his face felt swollen and bruised. Pain was the only thing he felt after Grendel's punishment.

"Where is the angel?" Esther asked, again. Sam had lost track of time. One eye was swollen shut so that he could barely even see. Breathing was difficult, and his head constantly rang like a telephone.

"Go...to hell," he croaked, bracing himself for the next barrage. He felt like he was on the other end of the tortures he had put countless demons through, only he couldn't be hurt by holy water or threatened with exorcism.

Esther gave the nod to Grendel. Hard blows landed everywhere: his ribs, his face, his stomach. It was a simplistic torture, but absolutely brutal. Sam let the pain come, like a bulldozer running him over again and again. It didn't matter what they did to him. He wasn't going to crack. He'd been through hell before, literally. There was no pain greater than the Cage.

Esther's voice was tired. "We've been at this all night, Sam. And we'll keep at it until we get answers. Tell us where the angel is."

"You don't have to ask him." A gruff voice echoed through the darkness of the warehouse. Sam turned his head feebly toward Castiel's voice. Where was he?

Grendel stopped punching Sam and took a step back, scanning the darkness. Sam shifted his bound hands toward the boxcutter in his pocket while his captors were distracted. Esther called out, "Come out where we can see you."

Castiel responded: "You dare challenge me? It was by my hand that the Righteous Man was lifted up from the depths of hell. It was by my hand that hundreds were slain in heaven. I am the angel Castiel. I was formed at the beginning of Time out of light and shadow. You were born from the womb of a Babylonian whore. You are nothing compared to me, Esther."

"Some rhetoric, for someone who won't even come out from the darkness." Esther's voice seemed more annoyed now than anything. Sam tilted his leg up to let the boxcutter fall out of his pocket and into his hands. He began sawing at his ropes.

Grendel strode toward the darker recesses of the warehouse, farther away from Esther. At that moment, a man jumped through the window behind Esther, putting a knife to her throat. Dean growled, "Move and you die."

Sam sliced through the ropes and stood up too fast. Stars passed over his vision for a few seconds. He stumbled forward, and when he regained his sight, he saw Grendel barreling out of the darkness toward him. Castiel slid out from the shadows, holding his angel blade in his hand. "Back off," he warned, "or your mother dies."

Grendel didn't speak, but receded. Castiel turned to Sam and extended a hand, healing him. All the pain went away in one blissful second, making Sam whole again. The angel staggered back. "There. You're healed. Let's get out of here."

They walked out of the door, with Dean holding the First Blade to Esther's neck. They got out into the orange light of the parking lot just as light began to glow on the horizon to the east. Castiel bound Esther with an Enochian spell and Dean threw her in the trunk of the Impala. Sam turned but didn't see Grendel anywhere.

Dean handed the blade to Castiel, noticeably rubbing his arm. The angel deposited the weapon within the folds of his coat. "We need to leave now," he said. "We got what we came for."

"Dean, are you all right?" Sam asked, looking pointedly at the Mark. His brother nodded and rolled up his sleeve.

"I'm fine, Sam." But in fact he wasn't. Sam could see him trembling. "Let's just go." Typical Dean evasiveness. Sam got into the passenger seat, with Castiel in the back and Dean in the driver's seat. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Dean was the first to speak. "Damn it, Sammy. I told you this was a bad idea. Now we've got frickin' Cain's daughter in the trunk and a hulking brute out to get us. Not to mention you put yourself at risk. If Cas hadn't woken up and followed you, we never would have found you."

"Listen," Sam said, "it doesn't matter. We have a lead on the solution to the Mark. The problem could be gone sooner than we ever thought."

Castiel was notably silent as Dean drove back into town. Sam wondered if the angel had hesitated before calling on Dean for help. And most of all, he wondered why the angel had needed help at all. Dean had been forced to use the Blade because Castiel had not been strong enough to rescue Sam on his own. And when he had healed him, as much as Sam appreciated the pain being gone, he couldn't help but notice that the action had an adverse effect on Castiel's health.

Sam turned to the back. "How are you doing, Cas?"

"Hmm?" Castiel looked up. "Oh. I'm fine."

Sam sighed and looked ahead again. Dean and Castiel were both annoyingly stubborn about their personal problems. Neither of them would open up. Sam felt like he was going to explode. _I just want to help you guys,_ he thought. _That's all._


	8. The Masterplan

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters are not my intellectual property.**

**Author's Note: This is a short chapter, but I haven't had much time to write since I'm also writing a novel for Camp NaNoWriMo. Sorry. After this month, I'll be updating with longer, more frequent chapters.**

**The Bunker (Lebanon, Kansas)**

Sam waited outside the dungeon while Castiel bound Esther within. He kept an eye on Dean. His brother was pacing back and forth in the hallway like a dog running up and down a fence over and over. Sam didn't want him near Esther. He remembered last time they had interrogated someone at the bunker. Dean had almost killed Metatron then. He didn't want to take that chance with Cain's daughter.

Dean shook his head. "What the hell's keeping Cas?" Dean was looking really anxious.

Sam shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Dean. He's fine." He cast a glance at the door. If something had happened, they would have heard.

In a few moments, the door opened and Castiel emerged, shutting it behind him. "She is bound," he confirmed.

"So now we have to find a way to get her to talk," Sam said.

"I can do that easily enough," said Castiel. "My blade should be effective against her."

Dean scoffed. "Look, guys, I know you mean well, but she's not going to give it up that easy."

Sam looked at him. He was right. Esther knew that after they were done, they would kill her. What they needed was leverage, and they didn't have any. "Maybe if we find Grendel, we can use him to make her talk," he suggested.

Dean looked unsure. "Look," Sam continued, "it's our best shot right now, right? I don't see a choice."

Castiel nodded. "That could work. The problem, of course, would be finding and subduing him. Even assuming we can defeat him in physical combat, he will be nearly impossible to find if he doesn't want to be found."

Sam looked over at Dean. He wanted to see what he thought. He wanted to know that his brother _wanted _to be cured, that he wasn't slipping too far into the darkness.

Dean shrugged. "Whatever. How do we find Grendel, then?"

"We send a message," Castiel said. "If he doesn't come to us, we tell him we'll kill Esther."

Sam liked the idea. "It sounds like it could work."

"Or it could be a disaster," Dean added. "I don't want to have to use the Blade if I can help it."

Sam nodded. "It won't come to that," he told him. But he wasn't sure himself. With Castiel weakened, Dean was the strongest player they had, especially with the Blade's power. If they couldn't capture Grendel, they would be forced to do just that. _It won't happen,_ he reassured himself.

"I'll get the message to him," said Castiel.

"Thanks, Cas." Sam watched the angel disappear with a flap of his wings.

Dean sighed. "Now, we sit back, relax, have a cold one, and wait for it to blow up in our faces."

Sam didn't say anything. He didn't want to start an argument. Dean's position on the matter was clear. But Sam couldn't help but feel like his brother needed a slap upside the head.


End file.
